


Day 14: Celebration

by SaiTheWriter



Series: Turkstober2020 [14]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Birthday Party, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sad and Happy, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaiTheWriter/pseuds/SaiTheWriter
Relationships: Rufus Shinra & The Turks
Series: Turkstober2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957075
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21
Collections: Turkstober 2020





	Day 14: Celebration

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Small hands smacked at the alarm button on his clock, shoving the thick blankets from himself as he propelled upwards. Birthday! Still clad in pajamas, the seven year old rocketed down the hall from his room, soft blond curls bouncing in his wake. He knew exactly where his mother would be at this hour, like clockwork._

_And there she was, just as he knew. His mother’s solar room was probably the prettiest room in the house, and she kept it that way. Well, demanded it be kept that way. That’s what servants were for, after all. His footsteps approached, facing her favorite lounging couch. Triclinium, he corrected himself, recalling the lesson from somewhere in his mind._

_“Mother!” He chirped, bobbing to a halt at her elbow, smile hesitant but there. It was always a mixed bag when he bothered her so early in the morning, but she did seem to be upright. “Mother, it’s my birthday!” He couldn’t hold back his enthusiasm, not today. Last year had been a disaster, and unfortunately, he could remember something similar the year before. But this year. It would be different, he was old enough to understand now, and knew how to be careful._

_The tip of her head bobbed up at being addressed, pale blonde tresses moving back along the outside of her dressing gown. She was beautiful, the faint lines of age not as prominent as expected, but gone by the application of makeup from the night before. “ I know darling, that’s why mother has a big orange juice today.” She laughed at her own joke, something Rufus merely blinked at, causing her next sip to be far longer. “Happy birthday. What has Agnes planned for you, hm?”_

_Coherency was far better than he’d hoped, perhaps it was the luck of his special day. But Agnes…” She wasn’t there when I woke up.” He lied, flinching in horror at the idea of getting her in trouble. “I think she was getting me breakfast.” He amended, looking towards her to gauge her response. A soft breath and she merely hummed in response, obviously not overly worried with the answer._

_“But maybe I could just have some of your orange juice while I wait for her?” He was so close, stalling could perhaps earn him just awhile longer._

_“Oh no, darling. This is mother’s drink, you won’t want this for a few more years.” She tutted absentmindedly, her gaze already drifting after another gulp. The longer he stayed, the more clunky her lashes looked, and the slight wobble to the cupid’s bow of her lip showing her misjudged lipstick pass._

_“Mother, I was wondering. Since it is my birthday, may I stay here with you?” It was now or never, she was as cognizant as could be, which was a sign. Surprise flitted over her features, and for a moment he noted something else. Regret? Pity? For her, or for him? Her shaky hand set the drink to the side on a table, reaching out well manicured fingers to cup his cheek. So small, so fragile. “Oh Fussy, sometimes I wish it was different. And Mama could take you back home.” He’d frozen at her touch, her nails digging along his scalp as they moved to pet him like a cat. You would have liked your Nana. He poisoned them, you know. For trying to take me home.” Poisoned? His brow wrinkled while he watched her with that far away look, a brief roil of grief running along her features._

_This was probably the most he’d ever heard her speak on something not boring like party talk and or gossip. She was...trusting him? Tentatively he nuzzled into her touch, those nails shifting to run tenderly over his cheeks. He could remember this touch, but faintly. It felt like ages since his mother had moved him along to being nannied full time. He opened his mouth to tentatively ask her to have a party with him, when the doors slammed open. His head whipped to the side, expecting his nanny to come and admonish him but...no. It was his father. He flinched, but the move was not from the sight of the man, though he looked positively thunderous._

_Her nails._

_They were digging into his scalp. Rufus cowered in her hold, too afraid to cry out at the sensation when his father's gaze was so full of rage. His hand snapped out as he came to a halt in front of her mother's perch, yanking him away by the shirt collar and shoving him back. Had Agnes not been there to tuck him close, he would have gone sprawling. She was quick to turn him away and cluck, her handkerchief reaching up to wetness near his hairline. Dazed, he tilted to look, watching the bright spot of red lazily grow on the clean white square._ _Behind them a glass shattered, his head turning immediately to peer back as raised voices escalated in the room. Agnes moved him to the door quietly, the sounds moving in and out with her quiet murmurings in his ear to pay them no mind with their adult talk. Their conversation was about him, and yet...he was the furthest thing from their minds._

_‘-filling his head with your lies-‘_

_‘the proof is there-‘_

_‘fucking drunk, no wonder your father-‘_

_‘high and mighty, as if you don’t go whoring-’_

_‘and with you at home no wonder I-’_

_‘-should have poisoned me too you vulture-‘_

_‘-oh that can be arranged, don’t tempt me-‘_

_The door effectively muffled out the rest of the conversation as it shut, but still it remained just as etched into his mind as if it were still going on. He swallowed thickly, tilting his small head up to catch the emotion in his nanny’s eyes. Pity. This was his first recollection of that look, and it did not feel good. But then it was gone, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled._

_“Come along young master, I’ve made pancakes.” The sounds faded around the corner, but the sound returned as his alarm clock beeped again from his room, causing a wrinkled nose. His alarm clock, he’d dismissed it already…._

_~*~_

Sleep fell away in confused waves, the dark of the room lit up by the bright red of his alarm. In a daze Rufus fumbled to touch the button a top it, sitting up straight in bed and staring out into the posh modern sterility that was his room. His room as a twenty-four year old. No, twenty five, given the small digits at the top of his alarm screen. The blond sighed and tilted to lever himself up from the bed, mind still clogged with the dregs of his dream.

That had been the last disastrous time he could remember speaking of his birthday. There had been no parties until his first introduction to galas and other parties of social standing, the ones his father rattled into him about protocols, respect, and above all, not bringing attention to himself. 

On auto pilot the blond moved along, showering, shaving, readying himself for the day until the rap at his door showed it to be Rude, coming to collect him for the day. The man was nice, quiet in an unobtrusive way. His silence was not awkward, merely a lack of the usually required chit chat. Rufus found it comforting often times, but today his mind was full of those half forgotten smiles from his mother, the smell of that laced juice, and the sudden screeching yells between them as the nanny pulled him away-

“Sir?”

“Mm?”

“I asked if you need to make any stops before the office.” Ah, he’d missed one of his few questions. A travesty on any other day, really. The man had a pleasant timbre to his voice, one he found most often calming.

“Thank you, no. Tseng promised a long day of meetings, I’ll just need dinner catered in to finish paperwork for the end of day.” It wasn’t completely unheard of to be found in the office after hours, and after that dream, he’d just as soon it happen as to be alone with his thoughts. When they pulled through into the garage and his designated spot, Rufus left the car with a quiet murmur of thanks, his thoughts straying once more.

The morning blurred into one long moment of distraction, barely broken with questions and noncommittal answers. So much so that many of the presenters gave up on expecting much of him for the day and by noon, the word had travelled. His afternoon appointments seemed to have found either excuses to postpone or flat out cancelled, a rare treat no matter the day. Perhaps he would be home on tiem after all.

He spent the remaining hours balancing between losing track of his thoughts and the small but irritating pile of paperwork that accompanied several emails. Each time his motions tugged him further down into actually accomplishing something, a random thought would stray, tugging him completely away from it and towards his memories. By the time early evening rolled in, his paperwork was mostly finished, but his thoughts were dragging him down. Only the sharp rap at his door saved him from another dive into questioning his dreams. 

Tseng slipped inside, tall and quiet as his footsteps brought him closer with a signal from the blond. “There’s...sir. I’m afraid you’re needed down at our level for an imperative brief. I tried to hold it off but the issue is...time sensitive.” He grimaced at the very idea, looking none too happy at having to come up. “I wish there was no necessity in bothering you.”

A glance at the clock himself had his shoulders lowering. The blond wanted nothing more than to sit back in his couch at home and drink away the trivial memories he’d been hounded with in the morning. Joining his family line in one thing, at least. “And you’re sure it cannot wait?” He already knew the answer to that. Tseng wouldn’t think of disturbing him at a later hour if he didn’t need to.

The nod was all he waited for, gathering his coat and standing upright. His remaining work could wait til morning, there was no need to take it home. Tseng waited until he rounded the desk before turning himself and guiding them to the elevator, ushering him in to take the smooth glide to the lower levels. 

His weariness must have shown, for Tseng remained quiet on the trip, only murmuring something when the doors began to slide open. A short hall and there they were, his feet halting him as the aroma of braised meat filled his nostrils. Glancing up, the blond froze completely, eyeing the group and their surroundings. Rude and Reno were there at the main console, though not at work by a long shot. Reno reclined in a chair nearest them, tilted towards an array of Wutaian cuisine, his partner sitting opposite and with a bit more grace. Several plates were settled in a small circle, and there in the middle? A bright yellow cake in the unmistakable shape of a chocobo.

“Sorry sir.” Reno drawled, catching his staring. “It was all they had that was uh, birthday-like. So. Happy birthday, yo.” Rude echoed it, and with nothing else, Rufus turned towards Tseng, brows arched. 

“Happy birthday, sir. I apologize, but I was being truthful. The matter was time sensitive. Reno threatened to eat the shrimp if I didn’t collect you soon.” He smirked at the sound of his second yelping a hurried denial and the sound of the chair straightening, his lips tilting the briefest bit further as a low chuckle left their boss.

“My afternoon appointments did not cancel of their own accord, did they?”

“Rude was quite succinct in his urging of them to re-plan their day.” No shame showed on Tseng’s expression, his look moving back to serenely undisturbed. “But Reno is correct, the food will be cold soon. Join us?” He gestured towards the spread, the cake, and an even more shocking small pile beyond. A mix of terribly to neatly wrapped parcels. It was not his first time receiving birthday presents, nor was this his first ‘birthday party’. But those were high society functions, thinly veiled operations solely purposed to give standing and pomp to the highest priced drivel someone could find on the market. No. This was..what?

There was something here, a welling of emotion that almost seemed alien. It wasn’t until he’d settled into his seat and bit into his meal while Reno rolled into some outlandish mission tale that he realized what it was.

_Family._


End file.
